


Of course they have Twitter in Hell (IFD 2020)

by Tosie



Category: Good Omens, Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Pining (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Characters Reading Fanfiction, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley and Aziraphale have fans, Eric ships it, Eric the Disposable Demon - Freeform, Facebook, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Gen, Hell ships it, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Inspired By Tumblr, Inspired by Fanart, Inspired by Fanfiction, Inspired by Twitter, Inspired by social media, Instagram, International Fanworks Day 2020, Is this Good Omens?, Love Confessions, M/M, Memes, Meta, Online Dating, Social Media, Tumblr, Twitter, feral Michael Sheen cameo, good omens fandom, reddit, subtle ones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:00:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22740643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tosie/pseuds/Tosie
Summary: I imagined a lot of things while we were stopping Armageddon.  I never ever once imagined this thread.Word of what happened at Aziraphale and Crowley's respective trials spreads, and they learn that they have a sizeable fan following developing in Hell.  His name is Eric, and he has discovered social media.Written for the International Fanworks Day 2020 prompt: characters discovering fan works about themselves.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 28
Kudos: 155
Collections: International Fanworks Day 2020





	Of course they have Twitter in Hell (IFD 2020)

**Author's Note:**

> See endnotes for all the different fanworks/social media posts referenced!

**Prologue: The Beginning**

“No, angel, see—”

_BWWOOOOOONG_

The dramatic sound of a gong cut Crowley off mid-sentence. Aziraphale, despite having been startled enough to slosh some sherry over himself, was secretly rather relieved. He didn’t particularly want to listen to another of Crowley’s rants about _The Tortoise and the Hare_.1

The demon was staring incredulously at his phone where it sat on the cushion next to him. He picked it up cautiously.

“What is it, my dear?” Aziraphale asked, dabbing sherry off his trouser leg.

“It’s, er, twitter,” Crowley muttered distractedly, scrolling and typing something in.

Aziraphale frowned. “It’s never made that noise before.”

“Er. No, it hasn’t.” The demon looked up at him, yellow eyes widened in surprise. “I’ve got a follower. A new follower, on twitter.”

“That’s...lovely, Crowley.” Aziraphale knew next to nothing about twitter, but he was reasonably sure that a ‘new follower’ was a good thing.

“It’s bloody weird, is what it is. I don’t _have_ twitter followers.”2 He tapped the little picture, and then blinked in disbelief at the account that came up. “It’s Eric.”

“Who?”

“ _Eric_. It—He’s a demon. One of the junior ones.”

The angel looked mildly surprised. “You have twitter in Hell?”

Crowley snorted. “Of course they have twitter in Hell. Didn’t think anyone actually used it, though.”3 Then he promptly dropped his phone as it sounded another loud alert, this time something like a high-pitched airhorn.

“What does that one mean?” There was genuine interest in Aziraphale’s voice; neither had heard a peep from their respective Head Offices since the botched executions, and that was nearly a month ago now.

“I dunno, I set those alerts up ages ago,” came the reply from somewhere beneath the sofa. “He’s tweeted something, maybe.” Crowley emerged, phone in hand. He carefully turned the volume down, and then stared at the screen for several seconds. Then he started giggling.

“What is it?” asked Aziraphale, a tad impatiently.

Bubbling with laughter, the demon handed over his phone. Aziraphale squinted at it.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand what I’m looking at. That’s the _Creation of Adam_ , isn’t it?”

“Yes! It’s me—well, it’s _you_ , looking like me, but that’s not the point; it’s you—me—in the holy water bath, asking Michael for a towel,” Crowley pointed at the image, “And there’s God—well, Michelangelo’s beardy-old-man version of God—handing it to you.”

“‘Here it is, the most beautiful thing I have ever made in my entire life,’” Aziraphale read. “I still don’t—”

“It’s a _meme_ , angel. A joke!”

“So,” he began slowly, “you’re saying that a demon, a junior demon, in _Hell_ , has created a twitter account—”

“—so that he can make memes about ‘my’ trial, yes.”

Aziraphale blinked. “That seems...unlikely.”

Crowley shrugged, taking the phone back and sticking it in his back pocket. “Well, the higher-ups won’t stand for it anyway. It was a big embarrassment for them, my not dying horribly. They won’t want it getting around more than it already has.” He sprawled back on the sofa. “That account’ll be gone by tomorrow.”

....

Eric’s twitter account was not gone by tomorrow. Nor was it gone the next day, or the day after that. In fact, by the next week, four more accounts had appeared.4

1 It was an ongoing debate between them. Aziraphale maintained that the fable had it right: slow and steady was the best approach to most things. Crowley was adamant that if the rabbit hadn’t chosen the worst possible time to take such a bloody long nap, he would have won, no question, and everything would have been fine, and anyway, he probably only stopped because he _wanted_ the tortoise to catch up, did you ever think of that, angel? 

2 Anthony Crowley was not on twitter to have _followers_. Anthony Crowley was on twitter to start fights. 

3 Crowley had set it up soon after the human one was invented, thinking it would be a hit with the rest of the demons. Predictably, none of them understood the point at first (“Exactly! There is no point!” he’d yelled enthusiastically). He had planned to try explaining it to them again, but then the antichrist was born and he was busy with full-time nannying, so he never got around to it.

4 @eric, @eric, @eric, and @michaelsheen. 

* * *

**The First Day: Twitter**

Crowley flung open the door of the bookshop. “Aziraphale!”5

The angel came bustling out of the back room, carrying a cup and biscuit-laden saucer. “Yes? Is everything all right?”

“No, everything is _not_ all right.” Crowley held up his phone and waved it around over his head. “ _Puns_ , angel. Twitter is actually catching on Down There, finally—took them long enough—and Eric’s using it to make _puns_ with himself. It’s a disgrace. I hate puns.”

Aziraphale cocked his head to one side and nibbled thoughtfully on a biscuit before replying. “Crowley, you invented puns.”

Crowley glared at him. “I know,” he said through gritted teeth, “but I didn’t expect them to be such a _hit_. They should’ve died off centuries ago.”

The angel smiled indulgently. “Well? Are you going to read them to me?”

With a long-suffering sigh, Crowley tapped his phone screen back on and cleared his throat.

....

Aziraphale’s favorite was _apocawhoopsie-daisy_ , but he conceded that _armageddon’t_ and _apocalmost_ rolled off the tongue best.

5 It always made him a little nervous, now, coming into the bookshop and Aziraphale not being immediately visible.

* * *

**The Second Day: Reddit**

“Aziraphale, did something happen to the Usher?”

“Mm?”

“The Usher. Is he dead?”

“Yes, my dear, since 1656. Hemorrhage, I believe.”

“....”

“Now, 63 down. Let’s see...oh, Crowley, you’ll know this one: ‘Actor who played the tenth—’”

“Not _Ussher_ , angel, _the_ Usher. In Hell. Hell’s Usher.”

“I can’t recall...oh, is that the little round fellow?”

“Yes.”

“Ah. Then yes. He...yes. He died. Why do you ask?”

“Someone’s posted a painting of him, on reddit. ‘Gone but not forgotten; Goodnight, sweet prince.’”

“Oh, that’s nice.”

“Yeah. ‘RIP our best boy’. How’d he die?”

“Unpleasantly.”

“Ah.”

....

“Crowley, have you ever seen a lump of sodium dropped into a bowl of water?”

“Uh. Don’t think so, no. Why?”

“No reason.”

* * *

**The Third Day: Tumblr**

Crowley was staring at his phone again. “Aziraphale,” he said slowly, “were you wearing socks at my trial?”

It was becoming a ritual: every day Crowley would turn up to share some strange new artwork or discussion he’d found in the cesspools that were Hell’s social media networks.6 Aziraphale didn’t even look up from his book.

“Of course I was.”

“No, that’s not—I know, but...” He seemed genuinely bewildered. “Were you wearing socks _in the bath_?”

“Oh.” Aziraphale paused. “I suppose I may have been.”

“.... _Why?_ ”

“Well—I don’t know. They’re undergarments, aren’t they?” Now the angel did meet his eye, his gaze challenging. “Or was I supposed to strip you all the way?”

Crowley dropped the subject.

....

He went back later, and reblogged the post.

_I imagined a lot of things while we were stopping Armageddon. I never ever once imagined this thread._

6 He checked them when the human versions became too unpleasant.

* * *

**The Fourth Day: Online Dating**

“‘Favourite word: Ineffable.’ Ha!”

“What?”

“It’s your online dating profile, Aziraphale! Someone made one for you, see?”

“That doesn’t look anything _like_ me.”

“Hm. S’pose not. They got the description right, though: ‘Manicured nails, Very English—’”

“I am not fro—”

“‘—Loves: Books, Newspaper crosswords, Cocoa.’ That’s you, all right.”

“....”

“Oh, don’t pout, angel. It’s a lovely profile. I bet you’re getting loads of matches.”

“Crowley—!”

....

Crowley was wrong. The profile got exactly one match.

_Status: Single, Immortal, Fallen Angel ...._

The website’s matching algorithm was very good, as it turns out.

* * *

**The Fifth Day: Instagram**

Crowley seemed a bit subdued. He wasn’t quite _sad_ , but he projected an air of melancholy and contemplation. He was staring off at nothing, and didn’t look up as Aziraphale approached, bearing a tea tray.

“Crowley? Dear boy, is everything all right?”

The noise Crowley made in response wasn’t even trying to be a word. Aziraphale set the tray down and took a seat opposite the demon. “May I see?” he asked, nodding at the phone where it was clutched in his hand. Crowley handed it over wordlessly.

Aziraphale gasped.

“Oh, _Crowley_. I—Crowley, this is beautiful!”

The demon snorted. “Yeah. It is. Beautiful. They—they’ve given me a halo, d’you see that?”

Aziraphale was beaming, staring at the little painting on the screen. “Yes, I do—”

“And made you a snake,” Crowley continued flatly.

Aziraphale gave him a sideways glance. “So they have.” He reached out and grabbed one of Crowley’s hands, searching for eye contact through the shades. “It’s beautiful,” he whispered fiercely.

After a tense moment Crowley ducked his head, nodding once.

Aziraphale hesitated. “ _You’re_ beautiful,” he said, softly.

Crowley snatched his hand away.

....

He printed himself a copy of the picture, and tucked it behind the _Mona Lisa_ , to look at when he fancied a good cry.

* * *

**The Sixth Day: Facebook**

“It’s a whole facebook group, angel. Thousands of members. And they just...share pictures of black and white things. Or red and white things. Snakes, fluffy things—rubber ducks! And say they look like us.”

“Do they?”

“Do they what?”

“Do they look like us?”

“...Some of ‘m, yeah.”

....

“I _never_ look like that. Never.”

“You must admit, you can be somewhat...dramatic.”

“Dramatic, okay, maybe, a little. But a _hognose_? That’s insulting, that is.”

* * *

**And on the Seventh Day....**

Crowley had barely said anything at all today. It was the first time in a week that he hadn’t shown any interest in sharing the latest demonic social media antics. In fact, he was showing a conspicuous _lack_ of interest.

“So,” Aziraphale said after a long stretch of silence, “what has Eric been up to lately?”

Crowley started. “Oh, er, nothing very—I mean, you know, no, er—just the same stuff. More of the same, yeah.”

For a demon, he really was an abysmal liar.

“Well, may I see some of the new posts?” Aziraphale kept his tone neutral. “I’ve been rather enjoying them. Have there been any more apocalypse puns?”

Crowley shifted in his armchair. “Dunno. Prob’ly. Haven’t really been on twitter.”

Aziraphale raised his eyebrows. As he understood it, twitter was the most active of Hell’s new social media networks, and consequently Crowley’s favorite to browse.

Seeing his questioning look, the demon shrugged and hunched in on himself slightly. Aziraphale sighed.

“Crowley. Tell me what’s bothering you. Please.” The angel’s voice was steady, but there was something fragile in it. “Let me help. Don’t—go to sleep for a year, or something. I couldn’t bear it, not after everything.”7

Crowley sank further into his seat. It took nearly a full minute of staring imploringly to wear him down.8

“They’ve...started writing. Stories. Posting them on a web archive.” His face was turning very slightly pink.

“Oh!” The angel sounded truly delighted, and then concerned. “....Why didn’t you want to tell me that?”

Crowley grimaced. “There’s a lot of...us.”

“Us?”

Crowley’s expression grew more pained, and he looked away, eyes roving over the room for something other than Aziraphale to focus on. “ _Us_ , Aziraphale. Together.”

“Us...together.”

“Yeah.” His gaze landed on the Cupid statue, because of course it did.

“Do you mean _together_ —”

“Yes.”

Aziraphale’s face had transitioned rapidly from confusion to careful blankness. “Oh.”

“Mhm.” He was looking at the ground now.

“I...” Aziraphale swallowed. “I wonder how they got that idea.”

Crowley shut his eyes. “Yeah,” he said quietly, and there wasn’t a trace of bitterness in his voice. “Me too, angel.”

“....Will you read one to me?”

Crowley’s head snapped up so fast his sunglasses fell off.  


....

They’d been taking turns reading stories to each other from Crowley’s phone for a few hours now. The demon had found it very relaxing after his initial shock wore off, and was dozing now, slipping pleasantly in and out of sleep.

Their mutual unspoken confession still hung in the air between them. They would need to talk about it, eventually, but for now, they savoured the growing anticipation.

It was Crowley’s turn to pick a story. He yawned. “Mm...you do another one. ‘M sleeping.”

Aziraphale glanced down at him fondly, where he was stretched out on the sofa.9 “All right.” He adjusted his reading glasses. “Let’s see... Here’s one: ‘100k, enemies to lovers, slow burn.’”

Crowley tilted his head back to look up at Aziraphale. “Wow, 100k? That’s a _novel_. I had no idea anyone was so invested.”

“Well, at least two of them are, apparently. It’s a collaboration. Good reviews, too.”

“Yeah? Go on then, give it a try.”

Aziraphale cleared his throat, and began to read.

“It was a nice day....”

7 Until just over eleven years ago, it was a rarity for them to see each other even twice in one year. But things were different, now that the world hadn’t ended. 

8 The record was one minute, 34 seconds. Not that Aziraphale kept track.

9 Which had elongated obligingly to accommodate the arrangement.  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> References (please let me know if I've credited anything incorrectly!)
> 
> Creation of Adam/towel (prologue):  
> [@npueu](https://twitter.com/npueu/status/1150034850700599296) on twitter.
> 
> Apocalypse puns (day one/twitter):  
> The ones I used came from a personal list I’ve been keeping based on what I come across in fic, but there are lists on twitter as well—here are a couple: [1](https://twitter.com/askwellesleywmn/status/1144650074733056001) [2](https://twitter.com/offcampusCal/status/1199441732145991680)  
> I think I might have come up with “apocawhoopsie-daisy” on my own, but I’m not sure.
> 
> Usher memorial portrait (day two/reddit):  
> Reddit user [zachariesalads.](https://www.reddit.com/r/goodomens/comments/c95314/ive_seen_a_lot_of_art_of_crowley_aziraphale_and/)  
> The sodium thing is a reference to how the holy water/demon reaction is described in both the novel and the script. 
> 
> Socks (day three/tumblr):  
> From a [tumblr thread.](https://neil-gaiman.tumblr.com/post/185800021486/i-was-taking-with-my-friend-about-good-omens-and)  
> Art by elise-simpson and generally-a-lark, Crowley’s comment by Neil Gaiman (I tweaked it).
> 
> Profiles (day four/online dating):  
> This one’s not actually fanart. It's from a [promotional video for the 2014 radio adaptation.](https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/p02cwyyc)
> 
> Angel Crowley portrait (day five/instagram):  
> [@cliopadraart on instagram.](https://www.instagram.com/p/B0EBvMXoBkb/) Incredible art there, check it out.
> 
> Facebook group (day six/facebook):  
> The group referenced is @Is this Good Omens? No? Too bad, it is now.  
> [This is the specific gif they talk about](https://i.imgur.com/Nj130kS.mp4), which is often compared to Crowley's reaction to being shot with a paintball.
> 
> Finally, the fanfic site they’re on is, naturally, Archive of Our Own.


End file.
